


trouble is a friend

by grumpyhedgehogs



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man (Video Games 2018-2020), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Conversations, Developing Friendships, Ficlet, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Male Friendship, May Turn Into A Series/Multichapter Fic, Mentions of Violence, Miles is around thirteen in this fic because I said so, No beta we die like Uncle Ben, Secret Identity Fail, Slice of Life, Sweet Miles Morales, it's marvel i can do whatever i want, snapshot fic, yes there are two spider-men (or future spider-men) in this fic what of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:02:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29246268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumpyhedgehogs/pseuds/grumpyhedgehogs
Summary: Miles meets a new friend, has an awkward conversation, and accidentally punches his favorite superhero in the face.
Relationships: Miles Morales & Peter Parker
Comments: 4
Kudos: 72





	trouble is a friend

**Author's Note:**

> This ficlet has been sitting on my computer for more than a year now. It was meant to be part of a larger 5 + 1 fic about Peter helping Miles become Spidey but I hit a bad patch of writer's block. If I ever get my inspiration for the fic back, I might upload more chapters/ficlets.

The first time Miles meets Spider-Man starts when something soft and slightly damp smacks Miles in the face on his way home. Or to be more accurate, it smacks onto the top of his head and slides from his hair into his eyes before flopping off of his forehead. He only catches the fabric as it falls past his face on instinct. 

_ Oh God, oh God, someone’s trying to put a bag over my head, _ he thinks, panicked. _ How did Dad say I was supposed to throw a punch again? Was it tuck your thumb in so it will be protected or leave it out of your fist so you can jab it in the person’s eye? I’m not ready for this! _

He’s taking a shortcut home today, one he’s sure he’ll never tell his mother about. Miles has a pretty good reason though-- Spider-Man and The Rhino have been tearing up the block he usually walks. Better not to risk it; he doesn't want to end up as a collateral damage statistic. 

Still, he’s not really in the best position right now, halfway down an abandoned alley with a few dumpsters and minimal hiding places. If anybody came after him now Miles would either have to chance a fight or see if he could make it to the far exit. (Then again, if he could run that fast with soft wet things slapping him in the head all the while, Miles figures he could try out for the track team, if his school had something like that.)

No further attack comes. He risks a glance over his shoulder. No one’s there.

A crumple of wet, ripped fabric rests in his hands. Hesitantly, still jumpy ( _ shouldn’t have had that extra coffee even if it  _ was _ free, Miles _ ), he turns it over. 

There’s only one person that red and webbed face could belong to. 

“Holy crap,” Miles breathes, just as someone else speaks from above him.

“Hey, nice catch.”

Miles shrieks.

He tries to turn around too fast, heart thudding deafeningly in his chest, and his feet get caught on his untied shoelaces.  When he finishes flailing his way to the ground, Miles blinks up at the slightly blurry red and blue figure just hanging out on the wall at least twenty feet off the ground. 

“Whoa, hey, are you okay? I didn’t mean to freak you out. It’s just, uh, I think you have something that belongs to me.”

He spots the spider on his chest and the gravity-defying stunt and then some brown hair and  _ oh my God, he’s holding Spider-Man’s mask that means Spider-Man doesn’t have his mask on.  _ Miles shrieks again. This time, he also slaps a hand over his eyes hurriedly.

“I didn’t see anything!” He yells. The alleyway rings with his voice before falling very, very quiet.

“Uh,” Spider-Man says a little uncertainly. “Thanks.”

“I didn’t see your secret identity, dude!” Miles cries more than a little hysterically. Blindly, he thrusts the mask out toward where he thinks  _ The Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man is sitting!  _ “Your secret’s safe, man, I’m not looking.”

There’s a little thump ( _ Spider-Man’s standing next to me! _ ) before Miles feels Spider-Man crouch down next to him. Miles tries to fling his hand out, offering up the mask. Instead the backs of his knuckles smack into a cheekbone. 

Spider-Man lets out a little "oof."

“Oh shoot, ah no, I’m so sorry, oh crap, are you okay, I still can’t see you-”

A hand closes gently over his and Miles realizes vaguely that he’s shaking a little. But he can hear something like fondness in Spider-Man’s voice when he speaks.

“Hey, no worries kid. No harm, no foul.”

Miles frowns in his general direction, palm still planted securely over his own eyes. “I’m not a kid, man. Spider-Man. Mr. Spider-Man sir.”

“Well, Mr. Alleyway Guy sir, thanks for gabbing my mask. I’d hate for it to touch the ground, you know? Clean, New York is not.”

“Yeah,” Miles replies, feeling a little better when he feels Spider-Man pry the mask out of his suddenly nerveless fingers. “You should really get on that. For the betterment of the community and all.”

“Excuse me, do I look like a streetsweeper to you?” Spider-Man puts on a theatrically offended voice; Miles can practically see him with his hands on his hips and his head cocked in disgust. He chances a peek between his fingers.

Spider-Man crouches beside him, mask firmly in place and the outline of a smile on his face. His eye-patch-things have narrowed a bit, like he’s focused on Miles.

“I don’t know, with that outfit? A street-performer, maybe.” Spider-Man’s grin is infectious.

“Unbelievable,” Spider-Man cries. He gets to his feet with such fluid grace that it surprises Miles into motionlessness before Spider-Man is reaching out and helping him up too. “Ungrateful. Disgusting. I dedicate myself to this city, I work day and night tirelessly, I sacrifice everything for this family, and this is the thanks I get?”

“Hey I’m not the one who told you to dress up like that,” Miles snipes back. Spider-Man ( _ Spider-Man! _ ) is surprisingly easy to banter with. Miles knows he gets a lot of practice, having watched his best one-liners compilations on youtube a thousand times. “That was all you.”

“I happen to _like_ my fashion sense.” Spider-Man places his hand on his chest and affects a prim tone. “Sweat-soaked spandex and clownishly bright colors are  _ all _ the rage in Paris this year, you know.”

“Oh, well, if  _ Paris _ says it’s okay…”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought you said. Wait until I tell Calvin Klein what you think of my costume. He wants to name a perfume line after me, I’ll have you know. Very exclusive. Very expensive. The good stuff.”

“Does he really?” Miles asks, a little off-put. “Because honestly, I can see that happening. Only in New York.”

Spider-Man laughs ( _ Spider-Man laughs at my jokes! _ ). He reaches out and brushes his knuckles lightly against Miles’s shoulder and Miles feels warm and welcome in a way he never has outside of his own home. “Nah, I’m just fooling with ya. Could you imagine though? Me on a perfume bottle next to all the stuff named stuff like ‘Essence of the Night’ or ‘Breathe’ or something.”

“‘Spandex’ by Spider-Man and Calvin Klein,” Miles tries and is rewarded with a guffaw. 

“‘Enter the Web,” Spider-Man counters. Miles wrinkles his nose and Spider-Man agrees, shaking his head. “Nah, you’re right, sounded gross when I was saying it.”

“Oh, they could do a whole line of your villains’ names. ‘Mysterio.’”

“Ugh, I’d hate to think what 'The Green Goblin' would smell like. Better not to think about it.”

There’s a little lull in which Miles scuffs his foot on the pavement. Spider-Man shifts slightly. His eye-patches widen and he turns his head like he’s listening to something. Miles wonders if he’s hacked into the police scanners and that’s how he gets his information on crimes. Miles did that once, when he was a kid. His father grounded him for three weeks, despite seeming more reluctantly proud than anything else.

“Hey, look man, I gotta go,” Spider-Man says, jerking his thumb back over his shoulder. “Duty calls. You be safe getting home now, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, no problem.” It feels like he’s losing something--not his time in the limelight or even the attention of someone he admires but maybe, just maybe, someone who could be a friend, one day.

“Hey, hey Spider-Man?” He calls out a little desperately. Spider-Man has already swung himself up onto a fire escape and is poised, arm out, to shoot another web. He tilts his head down to look at Miles attentively.

“I really didn’t see anything,” Miles repeats earnestly. “And even-- even if I did, I wouldn’t tell anybody, you know? I just, I don’t want you to worry or anything.”

Spider-Man is quiet for a long moment. “Thanks, kid. That means a lot.” 

Miles nods and watches silently as the hero swings away. He guesses they’ll both always pretend like Spider-Man’s voice didn’t just break with relief.

He stands there a few moments longer before clapping a hand to his forehead. “I just punched Spider-Man in the face!”


End file.
